A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,1
raised brows and Denning’s cough.
“If you will excuse me, Lady Diana, I fear I must leave you both to your scintillating conversation as the orchestra is beginning the next set, and my partner awaits me.” Denning made a quick bow, leaving Hunt to deal with the woman as he scurried off to the sound of instruments beginning a waltz.
“Coward,” Hunt mumbled as the traitorous Denning took his leave.
Dancers gathered on the floor in the space allotted for dancing. Diana placed her hand on his forearm. “Dance with me, Hunt?”
He stared down at her, hating how she made him feel. Those blue eyes looked as innocent as she was not. Oh, he was certain that she was innocent in the right way of how a young lady must preserve her virtue for marriage, but aside from that, she was a problem looking for a place to set up housekeeping.
He felt as though he wanted to run as far from her as he could but only after he’d crushed her tempting body to his to show her that he was the one in charge; not her. He would not label her as manipulative, she was basically too sweet for that, but she did have a way of getting him to do things he preferred not to.
Despite his ability to run his estates profitably and speak in Parliament with aplomb and grace, his and Diana’s lifelong relationship of push and pull rarely left him in charge when it came to Lady Diana. And now she wanted something from him. Of that he was certain. She always chewed her lower lip when she was ready to dump another problem in his lap.
He hated that he knew her so well, because that likely meant she knew him that well, also.
The privacy of a dance would provide her with an opportunity to embroil him in another of her scrapes. There was no doubt in his mind. Why he felt the need to constantly rescue her baffled him. They were no longer children, but she continued to turn to him, knowing with certainty that he would never let her down.
He’d had a peaceful year while Diana was in Italy, visiting her family and cooling her heels. Her banishment from the ton had given him many restful nights and a sense of order in his life. Thus far, he’d been able to avoid her since her return a couple of weeks ago. Rude, perhaps—he should have called on her—but his sense of self-preservation was strong.
Whether he was reluctant to be dragged into another disaster or merely happy to put his conflicting feelings about the girl on the shelf for a while, he had to admit he missed the chit.
However, seeing her now, with her impish smile and teasing manner that he knew was a prelude to asking for his help once again reminded him why he hadn’t called on her since her return.
He’d been busy himself, since this Season he’d decided it was time to take a wife and set up his nursery. Hence the suffering he’d endured at numerous balls, garden parties, soirees, and dinner parties over the past weeks.
He had promised himself to take a serious look at the current crop of debutantes and see if any of them appealed. Unfortunately, none had gotten past his initial contact of a dance, dinner partner, or introduction from a determined mama.
He’d almost caught an ague from all the eyelash fluttering, and if he had to hear just one more young lady exclaim over how talented she was on the pianoforte, water colors, embroidery, and selecting just the perfect shade of ribbon to match a dress, he would abandon the idea of marriage and name his brother, Driscoll, as his heir.
“Of course, my lady. I would love a dance.” He pulled himself from his ruminations and responded to Diana’s question.
She smirked as he took her arm and led her to the dance floor. “You don’t lie very well, Hunt. The look on your face tells me you would rather chew nails than dance with me.”
Maybe not chew nails, but he would certainly prefer banging his head against the wall a few times.
He took her in his arms and experienced a shiver he’d oftentimes felt when this close to Diana. Like an electric jolt. The softness of her body, the musky, mysterious scent that was only her, and the way her blue eyes sparkled with merriment, as if she knew what sort of an effect she was having on him,